


Twist and Shout

by Nadare



Series: Goretober 2020 [4]
Category: Dead Space (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Biology, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon Character Cameo, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Pregnancy, Gen, Goretober, Goretober 2020, Immobility, Loss of Limbs, Markers, Necromorphs, One Shot, Tentacle Monsters, Torture, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: Stan Miller went to bed after a long night shift and woke up in utter hell. The Ishimura had been overrun by monsters, Stan becoming one of their many victims. He'll soon learn, however, that he only wishes death had been the end for him.
Series: Goretober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936807
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Annual AO3 Haven October Challenge: Kink Whump Fluff and Gore Bonanza 2020





	Twist and Shout

_A/N: This is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever written. Uh, sorry? ^^;_

[Written on and off between 9-19-20 to 10-17-20]

Prompt: Split.

* * *

_**“Twist and Shout”** _

It was chaos.

Rudely awakened from sleep, Stan had stepped out of his room and found himself in hell. There were dead bodies littering the hallways, blood splatter on the floors and walls. 

Nightmarish creatures crawled, flew, and ran at his fellow crewmembers who were in an utter panic, firing various weapons into the air. While some shots hit their intended targets, most went wild as people were overcome by the monsters, their lives cut short. 

Confused and frightened by the pandemonium around him, Stan felt a hollow thud against his neck, the world turning black within a matter of seconds. 

The smell of sweet sickly vomit teased his nose as Stan stirred, something thick and slimy at his back. 

His eyes fluttered open as a shock of coldness ran up his legs, a fierce ache that worsened with each passing moment as if he were out in the unforgiving atmosphere of space and not within the walls of a mining ship.

Struggling to move, assuming he was resting against a failing environmental unit, Stan's breath stuttered when his feet turned black and abruptly fell off, the remainder of his legs following suit in a flood of blood and gore, dropping from Stan’s vision entirely.

His guts twisted in a hard knot, pain clutching at every inch of Stan’s insides as his stomach expanded, looking fit to burst. 

And burst they did, engorged pink and red entrails slipping past bits of human skin that hung in tatters, the remnants of which used to lay flat across the width of Stan’s stomach. 

Moaning in pure agony, Stan writhed in place against the wall, finding it hard to breathe. In his panic, he realized that he was stuck there fast, his only companions the bodies of his dead crewmates strewn all around him. 

Sick with the knowledge that he was truly alone, Stan knew there was no escape, nothing that would save him from his terrible fate. 

Given a brief reprieve, Stan’s entails hung in the air limply as if the energy needed to manifest themselves was depleted. Like they were merely sleeping.

Stan lowered his head, fearing what came next.

Movement from the wall around him caught his attention, Stan witness to shapes moving underneath the pale fleshy substance that laced the area, veering ever closer to his location. 

He moved his arms to ward them off but they converged on him, the flesh with a mind of its own touching Stan’s. It was hot and sticky, swiftly growing thicker, melding with his skin. 

The ugly mass was relentless, crawling over Stan’s chest and face, the repulsive smell of it making him gag. He couldn’t feel his arms anymore, absorbed somewhere in the alien growth surrounding him. Only his head stuck out a bit past it, anchored in place still. 

The entails that were resting came to life, the ends of them becoming hard and curved. Defensive weapons. 

Thinking things couldn’t get worse, Stan was proven wrong when his mouth suddenly locked on him. He struggled to open it, thinking he would be swallowed whole by the corruption, losing his identity and becoming one with it. 

His mouth began to open and Stan was relieved until it kept going past the point of comfort, his bottom jaw falling off altogether, giving Stan an uncomfortably close glimpse of his teeth for a second. Even worst, he finally saw the bloated mass that made up his new body.

The only human part left was his head and upper mouth, the rest a large bulging sack of alien tissue.

An awful pressure began building in his large belly, what felt like acid burning its way through his veins. Stan panted as fluid filled the sac that used to be his stomach and legs, building until Stan could feel it bubbling in the back of his throat.

Unable to vomit, Stan could only drool, the liquid dribbling down his all but ruined mouth. 

A burst of pain and fire jolted through his body before the hard bulb at the center of his lower half began to widen in a horrid parody of pregnancy. 

Wetness filled Stan’s eyes as he wailed, the torment too much to bear. The sound echoed off the walls of the ship, filling the empty dead space.

There was movement inside him, a definite shape coming forth that hadn’t been there before. It bit and crawled its way free in a slow torturous dance, bursting free in a fury of blood and violence, landing a few feet away on the floor. 

It vaguely resembled a human embryo, a small lump of red and pink meat with feet and one malformed eye. A bladed tentacle stuck up from their end like a scorpion.

Just when Stan thought it was over, the process began again, tears trailing anew down Stan’s cheeks as he trashed against the wall, stuck like a fly in ointment. 

He'd never been a religious man, all that Unitology bullshit striking him as covert brainwashing, but now he prayed to whoever or whatever might be listening for death. 

Something, _anything_ , to end his suffering.

Stan waited for hours that felt like days, losing track of time completely. 

An eternity passed until-

Hard solid footsteps that bore no resemblance to the shambling monstrous corpses of his former crewmates sounded near Stan, unholy roars preceding the stranger’s arrival.

He eagerly looked up, the tentacles around Stan snapping to attention as if sensing approaching danger. 

Stan cried out at the sight of what looked to be a tall man in an engineering suit covered head to toe in plating armor, his face obscured by a metal helmet. He held a powerful-looking gun in his hands. 

Without missing a beat, he shot and kill the things Stan had previously spawned before they could explode and do him harm. 

The man then turned the barrel of his gun Stan’s way.

He desperately tried to form words, to beg for relief. 

“Hel…” The last letter was beyond Stan’s capabilities, falling into incoherent moans.

Clearly used to taking out the creatures that had populated the ship, Stan watched the man sever the tentacles waving around him with precise aim, the appendages quickly shriveling up.

Stan wiggled in place with a joy he’d not felt since he’d gotten married back on Earth, wishing he could smile as the man pulled the trigger of his gun again, mercifully putting Stan out of his misery. 

A single sigh pushed itself out of Stan’s chest as the man passed his corpse by, leaving only silence in his wake.


End file.
